


Of Course It Does

by Kairyn



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: After Armageddont, After the Fall, Everyone Has Issues, Gen, Not Beta Read, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), The Fall (Good Omens), Who Crowley Was Doesn't Matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22012081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairyn/pseuds/Kairyn
Summary: "Did it hurt?""Did what hurt?""Falling."There was a lot, alotof alcohol behind that question. "... did falling from Heaven into the pits of Hell to boil alive in sulfur and blood while my bones twisted and shattered, and my wings burned black hurt?" Crowley asked incredulously. "Did you really just ask me that?"----After a night of drinking Newt blurts out an ill advised question. It leads to a talk.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	Of Course It Does

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm not fully happy with this. But the musings on what it would be like for the ANGELS that didn't fall to see their brethren do so just stuck with me. It might have been better to have an actual Angel do the explaining but idk... Crowley kept piping up in my head so I had him do it. Maybe that's my own biases cropping up. I feel like I should expand upon this one day but for now this little ramble is out of my head.

"Did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?"

"Falling."

There was a lot, a _lot_ of alcohol behind that question. The scars on Crowley's back seared like they were fresh and not centuries old. Crowley turned his head without lifting it from the pillow of the couch he was sprawled across to look at Newt. This had been the angel's terrible idea. Well, okay, to be fair (which Crowley didn't usually care to be), the _alcohol_ part had been Crowley's idea. Visiting the humans that helped stave off the apocalypse had been Aziraphale's. Aziraphale, who was now staring at Newt with utter horror at the question he'd just half slurred. "... did falling from Heaven into the pits of Hell to boil alive in sulfur and blood while my bones twisted and shattered, and my wings burned black hurt?" Crowley asked incredulously. "Did you really just ask me that?"

Newt frowned a little and blinked owlishly as if he didn't understand what Crowley had said. He probably didn't, considering the amount of drink it took to get him to ask the question in the first place. "Okay, I think it's probably time to call it a night," Anathema said as she took the mostly empty bottle from her boyfriend's hand. "Come on..." She got a very unsteady Newt to his feet and sent an apologetic smile to Crowley and Aziraphale. "Sorry about that. I'm just going to put him to bed..."

Crowley watched the two humans leave the room and then shook his head. "Boy's got a low tolerance," he muttered as he lifted his own bottle of very nice scotch that he'd gotten for himself from the cellar of some ancient mansion up North. They'd only been drinking for a few hours. Honestly. Mortals.

"He probably won't even remember he asked that," Aziraphale said, clearly still uncomfortable as he picked up his glass. "I'm sure he'll apologize for overstepping when he sobers up some."

Crowley made a show of shrugging. "Surprised more people don't ask me that, to be honest. Common enough pickup line and in my case... true."

Aziraphale gave the demon sprawled out across from him, an exasperated look. "I don't know how you can be so cavalier about it."

Crowley looked over his sunglasses at Aziraphale. "Angel... we all have our methods of coping. I could spend all my time burning down orphanages if you'd rather," he said. It was a ridiculous example as Aziraphale was well aware Crowley had a mile-wide soft spot for kids, but the point remained.

Aziraphale sighed and leaned forward from his armchair to put his own drink down on the coffee table. "You're right... There are far worse things you could do than that. I just... I don't like thinking about that."

There was a long silence. Crowley could point out that Aziraphale had made his own mentions of Crowley having Fallen before, but he knew that was a long time ago, and he hadn't ever really made reference to the physical side of things. The _agony_ that it had entailed. So, Crowley didn't say that. Instead, he gave a crooked little grin that was entirely insincere. There was literally nothing to smile about for this topic. "Then don't, angel. Have you finished those new books that appeared in the shop yet?"

Aziraphale looked at Crowley for another moment before allowing the conversation to change topics. Books, after all, were a much less harrowing thing to discuss. Who didn't like books? Besides Crowley. Crowley didn't count. He made a point of not liking anything Aziraphale liked. Or at least saying he didn't.

Anathema returned after about twenty minutes, apologized again, and rejoined the conversation, which had, by that point, moved onto the pros and cons of Crowley attempting to raise carnivorous plants. Yes, Aziraphale regretted mentioning the book he'd read that featured them immediately after the words left his lips. And yes, he was praying fervently inside his mind that Crowley would at least not go overboard. But no, he didn't really hold out too much hope that would happen. Restraint wasn't in really any demon's dictionary and especially not Crowley's.

The topic of falling was soundly not even alluded to again.

At least, not that night.

Three days later, while Newt was reading help wanted ads, and Anathema was making breakfast, Crowley appeared in the kitchen of the cottage. Neither human noticed him immediately, but when the demon made a face and said, "I don't think you have the temperament for being a gardener, Newt. It takes quite the backbone," from where he was leaning over Newt's shoulder, both humans startled.

"Crowley!"

"Aziraphale's busy, so I thought I'd drop by while he wasn't paying attention," Crowley said as he straightened. Newt looked as if he had suffered a mild heart attack if the hand to his chest was any indication, and Anathema slowly lowered the knife she had been holding. Crowley gave a grin and walked around to claim the seat across from Newt. He took off his sunglasses and put them down on the table, which was so rare for the humans to see Newt leaned back in his chair. "So. You asked me a question last time I was here," he said eyes fixed unblinkingly on Newt's face.

Newt flushed, and Anathema moved to stand beside him. "He was quite drunk," she said at the same time Newt stumbled over an apology.

"I know. That's why I'm settling for a talking to rather than skinning you," Crowley said. Oh yes. They had momentarily forgotten -somehow- that Crowley was a _demon_ because he was so damned charming, and he helped save the world and all. They remembered that tiny, little detail vividly now.

Newt visibly swallowed. "I really, really didn't mean to ask that question. I don't even know why it came to me and then I was just saying it an-"

Crowley lifted a finger to his lips, and Newt closed his mouth so fast he almost bit his tongue off. Newt wasn't sure if that was magic or just his brain's self-preservation instinct kicking on so fast that it bypassed conscious thought entirely. "Hush. Let me make a few things clear to you, mortals. One, to answer your question, even though it should be obvious... yes, it hurt. Quite a lot. I still feel the pain and probably always will. I am, after all, cursed. Two, don't _ever_ mention that topic again. Especially not around Aziraphale."

"Of course," Anathema said, putting a hand to Newt's shoulder. "You don't have to worry, Crowley. Completely taboo from now on." Newt nodded immediately.

"Oh, I know. Otherwise, you'll find out just what sort of things a demon can do to a mortal mind," Crowley said. "And that's before I kill you and drag you to hell."

Newt was still nodding, but Anathema had a slight frown on her face. "Can I... just ask one follow up question?" she asked, holding up a hesitant finger. Crowley rolled his eyes and sighed heavily before putting his glasses back on to hide his snake eyes.

"Yes, alright. Make it quick though, this isn't a topic I _love_ discussing," Crowley said with a face of utter distaste. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair now that he'd made his point.

"Why... especially not around Aziraphale?" Anathema asked.

Crowley was silent for a moment before sucking his teeth and leaning forward again. "I suppose it goes without saying that we demons aren't fond of the topic of the Fall. But why would you assume the angels are any more casual about it than we are?" Crowley asked back. "When half of one's population Falls -give or take- there's a lot of people left behind that lost loved ones and friends and it _hurts_."

There was a moment of silence. "We were _all of us_ punished. Either we Fell, or someone you knew Fell. The ones left Upstairs are never going to get any more closure than we Downstairs are. We know who we were back then... we don't look the same, we can't say our old names, we don't feel like the angels we were anymore, but we remember it... _perfectly_. Those that didn't Fall? They had to fight their loved ones and then watched us tumble from the sky and come back as twisted monsters that they were then told they had to destroy. Imagine it... Newt here. Turning into a horrible creature that runs through the village setting fire to little old ladies' houses... and the only way you can stop him is shooting him in the head. But, there's a lot of those monsters, and you have no idea which one was Newt, to begin with," Crowley said. "And you don't even have a millennium of feelings and memories to go along with that like angels do."

The silence returned and stretched on for several long minutes. "Do you know why Aziraphale goes by Mr. Fell?" Crowley asked. The two humans shook their heads slightly. "He'd tell you it's just coincidence. That it just happens to be very close to the last syllable of his name but spelled modern. But angels can lie now. Not very well, but they can. It _is_ convenient that his name ends that way, but that's not the reason he uses that."

"So, you're saying Aziraphale lost someone in the Fall," Newt asked hesitantly.

"Everyone lost _someone_ in the Fall, mortal. And now we are doomed to kill each other," Crowley said. "Quite the horrible fate woven by Herself, isn't it? Most angels, from what I've seen, try to forget. To not think about who we demons were before. Especially since none of us really look like we did on that side of the gate. But I'll bet anything... not a single one of them can."

"Were you it?" Anathema asked before she could stop herself.

Crowley frowned. "Was I what?"

Anathema hesitated, not sure if she should clarify the question. She was already asking more than she said she would, and she really probably shouldn't push her luck with an already annoyed serpent. But, damn it, she couldn't help herself when, for all her life, figuring out riddles was Anathema's sole purpose. Crowley was just staring at her from behind his shaded lenses, though. Waiting. Anathema wasn't sure how she _knew_ he was staring, since, again, sunglasses, but she did. "The one that Aziraphale lost," she managed to say even though she was internally already cringing.

"I'm not going to answer that," Crowley said. "Because it doesn't really matter. That person is dead. They all are. Think of it -if you must relate it to human concepts- akin to reincarnation. Actually, no. Not reincarnation. _Recycling_ ," Crowley said with a nasty edge. "We were pulled apart, shuffled around, and all our bits put back together in a different way. Just like how you make new paper out of old. Only... with more screaming and hellfire..." Crowley miracled himself a bottle to take a drink. He needed about fifty more, but the one would hold him for a few minutes. "And we remember..."

"That's..." Newt didn't actually know what that was. No word really seemed to be right for the jumble of thoughts and reactions that were in his head.

Crowley seemed to understand the issue and hummed a little bit. "Isn't it, though? So, to the point, don't remind Aziraphale about that again. Bad enough, I can't forget it... don't need to keep bringing him down with it too." Crowley preferred it when Aziraphale was smiling (which he never, ever voiced aloud but it was true), and the angel was always somber for days if he was reminded of what the former angels had suffered in the transition to demons.

"Why are... they so intent on killing each other then?" Newt asked.

"Because that'll _end_ it, mortal. It's not good closure, but it's a closure of some sort," Crowley said. "When you've existed as long as we have, sometimes it's just the fact you know it's going to end that helps you get through it. Now, I've already told you plenty. So, remember what I said and keep this talk to yourselves, hmm?"

The humans agreed, and Crowley disappeared from the kitchen to reappear in his car. He hadn't really meant to say quite that much, but it seemed to him like Aziraphale, for some reason, was fond enough of the humans to visit again. Repeatedly. So, best to make sure that they genuinely, absolutely understood why they could never say something so foolish in front of the angel again. Crowley was used to the topic. Lived with it all the time and had... well, not healthy or good coping methods but something at least. Aziraphale's methods consisted of Not Thinking About It. A typical (and typically useless) angelic way that only served to lead an angel to eventually self destruct. Gabriel was a fairly good example of that, actually. So tightly wound that one prod in the wrong spot, and he was likely to have a complete meltdown. There was a vast betting pool in Hell for when that one would snap. 

Crowley was only going about eighty as he left the village. He wasn't in a huge rush, and he was still enjoying the fact that his Bentley was not destroyed. Bits and pieces of the conversation in the cottage were still ringing in the demon's head, though, which was ruining his drive. Crowley did his best to not dwell on life before the Fall. Not always an easy task made infinitely harder by recent topics, but annoying his angel should help get his mind off it for a while. Crowley smiled and urged his darling car faster.


End file.
